Demons
by Fey Nikola
Summary: (Timeline, what timeline?) Desmond is a monster sometimes. Sometimes it shows. [A story wherein the moderns know something's up, Desmond doesn't want to talk about it, but trapped with them in Monterrigioni's Sanctuary he isn't really getting a choice in the matter.]
1. Chapter 1

He managed to hold out until Sunday. When Lucy asked him if he was up to going into the Animus, he'd told her no and burrowed back into his sleeping bag. He could almost hear Shaun sneering at him and almost see Rebecca's disappointed shrug, but they didn't matter. He'd made it to Sunday.

At first it was just the itching under his skin, like it had been since Thursday. He finally relaxed into it, and in the hidden safety of his sleeping bag let his dull nails drag over his biceps again and again. After a while, the itch grew into the worms-wriggling-under-his-skin feeling, and he pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes to keep the worms from getting out too soon. He could hear his feet twitching as the sensation grew more intense.

Next came the ringing in his ears, but he kept his hands alternating between rubbing his eyes and scratching grooves in his arms. Covering his ears would only make it worse; louder and higher pitched. The ringing didn't last long and instead replaced itself with a buzzing hiss that was almost like static. He was probably squirming a little by now, though he couldn't see himself in the sleeping bag.

A little longer and the twisting would turn into the shakes. This was always the part that made him worry about getting caught. He grit and gnashed his teeth, feeling the urge to bite down in flesh fill him, the memory of sweat and blood heavy on his tongue. He bit into the lining of the sleeping bag but it wasn't enough, not nearly.

The shakes were probably bad by this point, and he could feel his throat working and his tongue forming sounds around the liner and the memory of blood. The buzz-hissing and the worm-wriggling were still intensely rippling through his body, and he could almost feel his fingers clawing at the sleeping bag surrounding him. He spared a thought to hope that the others thought he was having a nightmare.

Shaun was the obvious target. He said he'd killed before, but he was obviously not a hand-to-hand fighter like the girls, and it would probably take far less time to bring him down and rip him open. The girls would try to kill him for it of course, or at least stop him, but they couldn't. He'd take them hard and fast while they were still gaping and tear their throats out. Shaun would still be alive enough to scream when Desmond turned back to him.

He would tear the corpse apart and gulp down what he could. The rest would be mutilated, easier to scatter the evidence, or he'd have to guard it constantly. And he didn't want a reason to stick around after.

"Desmond? Desmond, you need to wake up."

Someone was shaking him, going for his shoulder and ending up shoving his head. He snarled and turned it into a snort. He pulled the sleeping bag back a bit and looked up at Lucy who looked and smelt so worried that he nearly couldn't help but bare his teeth at her. Quickly regaining control, he turned his near-grimace into the preface of a yawn.

"Hey, wha's up? 'S it Mond'y already?" He slurred, trying to keep his mouth mostly closed to cover his pointed teeth. Lucy smiled at him, soft and sad, and he wanted to reach up and rip her face open.

"No, it's still Sunday. You just sounded like you were having a nightmare. Sorry I had to wake you." Lucy apologized, and Desmond rubbed his eye with a fist clenched to hide his inhuman nails.

"'Kay. Guess 'll go back ta sleep thun. Night, Luce. Thanks fer wakin' me." He slurred, wishing that he felt tired in the least.

His head ducked safely back into his sleeping bag and he ignored Lucy's departure, focused on trying to turn his legs back to human ones before he went too far and his knees reversed. Explaining the sets of loud popping noises would be harder than it would be worth. He really didn't _want_ to have to kill them.

It'd been so long since he could do more than repress the change until he could hide out in a sleeping bag; a month since Abstergo picked him up, and a while before that since his last time. His thoughts weren't normally so vicious, or the changes so intensely painful. He missed the freedom that had come with the change, how it used to feel natural and easy. Now it was a nightmare.

Now a monster was trying to escape from under his skin. And he was getting desperately close to letting it.


	2. Chapter 2

"Hey Desmond, breakfast's ready!"

"We should leave him alone; he's been pretty tired lately."

"Oh yes, let's just let him laze about while the rest of us actually get work done. Very fair."

"Leave it Shaun. If he's coming down with something, it could interact badly with Baby."

His nose twitched and his lips pulled back from his teeth. Those sheep were bleating really loud. He should get up and rip out their throats. That'd teach 'em.

"If he's coming down with something, Rebecca, it's because we've been letting him gallivant around outside all night." That was a grumpy sheep. Why did it make him think of glasses?

"Shaun, he only gets ten minutes outside as it is. The Bleeding Effect is really starting to get to him, and if we limit his whole world down to just this room and the Animus, well…" Wait, sheep don't wear glasses. And they don't know about the Animus either.

"Right, don't want him finger-painting with his plasma, now do we." They probably aren't sheep then. Why's everything so dark?

"If he is getting sick, he should probably eat something to keep his strength up. Hey, Desmond! Wake up!" His whole body shook suddenly. An earthquake?

His ears flicked and he yawned loudly. Trying to respond only resulted in a mumbling growl. As consciousness filtered back in, he realized that he'd partly changed in his sleep again, and cursed internally.

"You awake yet? Food's waiting." Rebecca shook him again. He needed to change face and throat back first, then the rest. He groaned in a vaguely human-sounding tone, and rolled over to buy himself time.

"Oh leave him. If he's not hungry then let him starve." Shaun retorted, and Desmond could hear the sound of his plastic fork fighting with something. Then it faded, and his ears were working themselves back to their regular shape, and his jaw _ached_ but his face was its normal dimensions, so he risked peeking his head out.

"Nuh, 'm 'ungry. Gimmie a sec." He grunted out, voice harsh. Rebecca gave him an encouraging smile and patted his shoulder just as it was moving back into human configuration. He winced, but ignored the pain and tried to force himself back to human faster.

With Rebecca hovering over him he had to theatrically stretch his arms over his head to camouflage the popping of his bones realigning to 'normal human'. He grabbed his clothes from where they were piled next to his side and pulled them into the warmth of his sleeping bag, wincing at the lingering chill as he pulled them on. He unzipped the bag and tugged on his sneakers, then checked to see if the other Assassins suspected anything.

Lucy and Shaun were both sitting at the camp table, and with the acoustics in the Sanctuary they'd probably brushed off the unusually loud sound of his bones snapping into place. Rebecca was still crouched next to him, though, and watched him stand with an odd look. For effect, he stretched again and shifted his spine a little, giving a few smaller pops.

"So, what's cookin' good lookin'?" He offered lamely, extending a hand to help her up. Rebecca stifled a laugh and stood on her own, punching him in the arm as they both headed over to the others.

"Scrambled eggs and some kind of local sausage; it's a little bland, but pretty good when you add enough pepper." She answered, and took Lucy's seat as the blonde rose to toss out her paper plate.

"Sounds good to me." Desmond could feel himself salivating just from the smell. Even partly changing burned plenty of calories, especially since it had been unintentional.

"Desmond, are you okay?" Lucy asked as she came back toward the table, and he paused in the middle of claiming the last of the eggs to turn to her.

"I'm alright, why?"

"Oh, maybe because you sounded like your bones were breaking after you went to bed last night and just now wasn't much better?" Shaun remarked, and Desmond couldn't hold back a bemused smile. Was that Shaun's version of concern?

"Oh, that. Well, I could put an air mattress on my wish list, but somehow I don't think that's going to make it into the budget." He stretched his arms over his head again, this time pointedly not popping any joints. "I'll survive. Not like Rebecca would let me sleep in her Baby."

Shaun looked him over with an impressive amount of disdain, and then did a double-take. Desmond felt sweat break out on his skin and quickly started taking inventory of what he could've missed.

"If it starts becoming a problem, we'll just… Desmond?" Lucy paused as she was about to head over to her desk. He tried a nervous smile, but now both of them were staring hard at him.

"So it's not just me? You guys see it too?" He whipped his head around to look at Rebecca. He needed to figure out what they were staring at, fast.

"Uh, guys? You're starting to creep me out here. Is there something on my face?" He tried to joke, but nobody was laughing.

His eyes. They were looking him right in the eyes. Shit.

He rubbed his hands over his face as if trying to remove whatever might be stuck to it, and quickly changed his irises back to their normal shade of brown. He looked back and forth between the Assassins to either side of him, acting as confused as they now looked.

"But… What was with your eyes just now?" Rebecca asked. Desmond shrugged and started spearing sausages onto his plate.

"Oh that. I was just using the Eagle Vision. It was active when I woke up, must've happened in my sleep." He shrugged as nonchalantly as he could, and used his spork to start shoveling eggs into his mouth.

"Desmond, I've seen you use Eagle Vision before, and your eyes didn't change colours then." Lucy had crossed her arms, and Shaun was pushing back his chair slightly. Desmond clenched his teeth and swallowed his eggs around the lump in his throat.

"Well maybe it's a new thing, because of Ezio. Or maybe you just never noticed before. You don't pay much attention unless it has to do with the Animus or the Bleeding Effect." The spork made a sad little cracking noise in his fist and he should really lower his voice. Rebecca was leaning away from him now too.

"Is this something to do with you sounding like an arthritic old man this morning?" Shaun was talking slowly and calmly, both hands out of sight under the flimsy table, and Desmond threw down his broken utensil and stalked over to the Animus' chair.

"I'm not putting up with this. Plug me in." He waited impatiently as Rebecca exchanged a hesitant look with Lucy before getting up to start the machine. Desmond sat down and closed his eyes. He waited for the white matrix to appear as he cursed himself out for forgetting about his goddamned _eyes_, and then further for his stupid overreaction.

He ran his tongue over his blunted teeth. His stomach growled. He could hear the three of them moving to their regular stations, and resisted the urge to run for outside. With Templars scouring the country for him and suspicious allies surrounding him, he was very effectively cornered. He could only hope they wouldn't push too far.


	3. Chapter 3

The three of them didn't know what to make of him now. After his mini-tantrum, Desmond had been extra careful not to snap at any of them, to keep his part of any conversation polite and impersonal, and remain completely human and under control at all times. It was starting to get to him.

He'd caught himself tearing into his food violently more than once, and eyeing the vulnerable fleshy parts of his companions while his mouth watered. If he could just get out and kill something, it wouldn't be so bad. But ten minutes outside wasn't nearly enough time to hunt down a stray cat, never mind the kinds of things he was craving.

The worst were his teeth. Everything else he could keep a tight leash on, but the second his concentration wandered the secondary set would pop out in preparation for the good meal his body was starting to demand. He'd tried to drop subtle hints about getting more meat in the beginning, before his first Fuck-Up, but now that they were watching for any little unusual thing it was too dangerous.

If he hadn't been craving so badly, his second Fuck-Up never would've happened.

Rebecca had the day-watch and was keeping a lookout from just below floor-level on the stairs. Lucy said she had to get work of some kind done on her computer and had stayed up too. The only one of them who was really using his sleeping bag for its intended purpose was Shaun, since sleep wasn't really Desmond's friend anymore. He'd been laying awake watching Lucy type to pass the time. She'd occasionally get up to go check something at Shaun's station, which kept things interesting.

In the echoing dimness of the Sanctuary, all the little quiet noises seemed to magnify. Even with human ears he could tell that Shaun's head cold was starting to clear up. Lucy's heels clicking against the floor were sharp and confident, then there would be the shuffling noises of papers being sorted through or the tapping of the keyboard before she'd head back to her desk.

Lucy's sudden yelp and subsequent hissed curses startled Desmond out of the comfortable lethargy he'd been enjoying, and he was crouched on the _very_ _cold_ stone floor before he'd even seen what was wrong. Lucy was kneeling beside her desk, holding her left hand with her right. From the cables that'd been kicked up just behind her and the small stain on the corner of her desk, he could guess what'd happened.

Then the smell hit him.

Desmond didn't remember crossing to Lucy's side, he was just suddenly there and taking hold of her injured hand. It wasn't a terrible cut, but it was deep enough that it would probably take a while to close up.

"Desmond?" Lucy's pained voice turned his attention back to the woman attached to the hand.

He meant to ask her where the First Aid kit was. He really did. Instead they were on their feet, him pressing her back against the low wall behind her desk. He ignored her instinctive punch to his side and drew her left hand up the wall until it was level with his mouth.

He held her palm with his, their fingers interlaced, and he slowly leaned forward to lick the drips off her wrist. Oh god, the _taste_. Just that minute bit of flavor on his tongue and he was lost. Their palms slid stickily against each other as he followed trail after trail of blood droplets back up from her elbow toward the source. He squeezed a little to make her bones creek and another few rivulets flow. His secondary teeth scraped against the vulnerable underside of her wrist, and Desmond couldn't hold back a low growl. It had been _too long_.

"What the _hell_ do you think you're doing?!" The hand on his shoulder pulled him away from Lucy and back to reality. Shaun was glaring at him, bleary-eyed without his glasses. Rebecca had gone around the low wall separating them and gotten to Lucy. Had she yelled for them? He couldn't remember. There was only the teasing taste of warm blood on the length of his tongue, promising strength and life, and if he wanted more -_and he really did_- Rebecca and Shawn were in the way.

His first instinct was to hiss and snap the interlopers' necks, and he might've done it if Shaun hadn't hauled back and nailed him good right in the jaw. So much for not being a hand-to-hand fighter.

He ended up sprawled on the floor in the middle of the Sanctuary in his underwear, holding his mouth closed with his bloodied right hand and doing his damnedest not to leap across the room and snap necks. He had to make himself stay down, had to remind himself over and over that they'd stopped him from doing something stupid: they were just trying to help. He really shouldn't Change completely and tear them to bloody shreds. He wasn't too sure about why, but there had to be a reason.

The sweet taste coating his mouth insisted otherwise.


	4. Chapter 4

Nobody talked about the second Fuck-Up.

Rebecca always seemed to be watching him whenever he passed by Lucy and would insinuate herself into any conversations they had, but otherwise treated him exactly the same. Lucy was a little jittery around him, and the easy conversations they'd had before had stopped. She was still perfectly professional, and when he'd managed to get her alone long enough to give an awkward apology she'd kept things short and polite, and had gotten away from him as fast as possible.

Shaun was the one Desmond had really been worried about. He now talked to Desmond like he had when they'd first met; abrasive and uninterested. The casual teasing banter they'd developed was gone. He'd been the only one in a position that night to get a clear look at Desmond's teeth, so despite the increasing hostility Desmond kept engaging him in conversations. From the lack of accusations though, it seemed like his secret was still safe.

He'd only had to completely lose their trust to keep it.

Now, his ten minutes outdoors were spent just sitting on the roof of the villa looking at the stars. He refused to come out of the Animus for meals, losing himself in Ezio's memories. He'd overheard Rebecca mumble something about "punishing himself" and he couldn't really disagree.

Sometimes, during the day when most of the others were asleep, the memory of the delicious metallic taste would fill his mouth again. He'd lie in his sleeping bag and shake, biting hard into his biceps and shoulders where the marks wouldn't be seen. The worms were always violently squirming under his skin now, and after a week the muscle cramps were constant.

He hadn't slept in days; his vision was blurry and the ringing had become a low level hum that echoed through his every thought. He couldn't really feel his feet or his hands anymore. Then, one morning when he'd tried to get up to make breakfast, his joints had seized and refused to move.

He'd heard stories about this; that if you didn't eat fresh food and Change regularly your body would give out and you'd just die. They were supposed to be just stories.

His panicked scream stuck behind his locked jaw, and he lay helplessly curled up in his sleeping bag hyperventilating for an hour, desperately trying to move. When he heard Rebecca starting to shift around he knew it would only be a little while until she woke up, and he tried to focus on just getting his mouth working again. By the time she'd gotten dressed his jaw had relaxed enough to speak.

"Rebecca?" His voice came out high-pitched and scared, so he cleared his throat and tried again. "Can you give me a hand, please?"

She padded over to his sleeping bag and crouched down next to him. "Sure Desmond, what's up?"

"I can't… I kinda can't move." He was so grateful when she pulled back the sleeping bag so that he could actually see her; it didn't matter as much that he couldn't turn his head at all.

"Like, you've got a massive cramp or something?" She asked and tried to help him sit up.

His jaw locked closed again on his scream which was good because he didn't want to wake up Lucy or catch Shaun's attention but it felt like fire and ice and needles and knives and every terrible painful thing he'd ever felt ripping over and through him and something was whimpering was that him he should stop that Rebecca would worry he wasn't in the Animus why was everything white-

"…Hey, Desmond, are you with me? We'll get you an air mattress, I swear, just talk to me. C'mon Desmond, say something." Rebecca's worried face swam into focus above him, and when he could turn his eyes on her he did his best to smile.

"S'okay. Not your fault. Mine." He managed to grunt out through his clenched teeth. Electrified knives were stabbing into his ribcage. His spine was trying to rip its way out from under his skin. He could almost feel something wet and hot on his cheeks, but hoped fervently he was only imagining it.

"What is it? What can I do?" Her voice was calm and solid, and the gentle hand she was running over the bite marks on his bare arm was a comfort. He concentrated on that.

"'M dying." He gritted out slowly, and gave her a second to process. "Need to get in th' Animus. Finish mem'ries."

"What? Desmond, _no_. Fuck. What do you mean, '_dying'_? You never told us you were dying." Rebecca shook her head violently, then bent over so that he didn't have to strain his eyes sideways to see her. Over her head there might have been something moving, but he hoped that it was just his vision swimming again.

"Not your fault. Waited too long. Help me?" Even like this, crippled and whimpering, asking that still stung. His vision was starting to swim again, and he hoped that it was light-headedness from the pain and not his eyes watering because he really couldn't take much more.

"Desmond, what do you mean, you waited too long?" She asked again, and the hand that wasn't trying to smooth away the marks on his upper arms was running gently over his hair. He wanted to hate her so much.

"Doesn't matter." His jaw loosened suddenly, and he was thankful for the ability to pant for air again. "You need to get me in the Animus. I might have a few more days, and there aren't many of Ezio's memories left. Rebecca, please."

"Answer the question, Desmond." Lucy stood over Rebecca's shoulder, and how long she'd been there he couldn't say. A quick roll of his eyes took in Shaun standing by his feet, arms crossed.

Panting seemed to bring everything to a manageable threshold, a pulse of agony that flowed like waves over and through him. He wanted to squeeze his eyes closed and shut them out, but he knew what he had to do.

"It's terminal and I've had it for a while. Didn't expect the end to come so fast, though." He choked on his saliva and swallowed awkwardly. Barbed wire pulled itself down his esophagus. He hoped they would let it go.

"Is that so? Well, now I feel terrible for treating you so badly all this time. Downright guilty, actually. Just, if you don't mind, one more little question before we strap you into the Animus for your final trip. What sort of illness, exactly, gives you _fangs_?"

It would've been kinder if Shaun had just stepped on Desmond's throat and shot him in the head.


	5. Chapter 5

Lucy gave him her bandage to suck on while they went off partway up the stairs to 'discuss things'. If he hadn't needed it so badly, he might've felt humiliated.

After one long minute, he felt his secondary set of teeth start to slide out. They moved sluggishly, and the massive, brain exploding, sinus ripping, skin melting headache they gave him had him whimpering like a baby. After that, he could feel his body starting to unclench; fingers twitching and toes wriggling. It was like lightning and numbness all at once.

He concentrated on the texture of the cloth as his fangs bit down compulsively, and on shifting his ears enough to hear what they were going to do to him. The clearest things he could get were useless sentence fragments and the word 'vampire'. Laughing felt like ribs breaking.

Soon the bandage had nothing but the memory of that sweet life-giving flavor and spit, and he was lying on his back trembling. His nerves seemed to be shutting down, and the sensation of disconnect was as welcome as it was terrifying.

When they came back, he didn't feel ready. Rebecca pulled the soppy bandage out of his mouth, and despite its uselessness his teeth refused to let it go. She managed to get most of it from him, and in the process he gave all of them a good clear look at how abnormal his teeth were.

He could _smell_ Lucy's hand.

"Don't let her any closer." Desmond panted, eyes closed and his mind trying to focus on relaxing.

_I could relax if I could just get a good mouthful_.

Lucy stepped further away and Shaun put himself between her and Desmond. Rebecca remained at his side, folding the remains of the bandage with an unreadable expression on her face.

"Are you gonna attack us?" She asked.

"I can't move too well right now, but yeah, I might." Why not be honest? As long as he didn't admit what he actually was, did the rest really matter?

"We should be tying him down to the Animus right now Rebecca, not trying to reason with him." Shaun sounded more subdued than Desmond had expected. Then again, the guy was into conspiracies. If he already knew that things like him were real, maybe it wouldn't be such a big deal. He could always hope.

"Strapping him to Baby won't keep him alive!" She countered.

"Well, it's not like we didn't know we were all expendable going into this mission." Lucy commented calmly.

Desmond frowned. "I didn't."

"Well, bloodsucking monsters don't exactly get a vote." Shaun interjected. Rebecca leaned back from her crouch to swat at him, then returned to gingerly stroking Desmond's bitten-up shoulder.

"Did you do this to yourself?" She asked, letting her fingertips linger over a particularly vivid set over the meat of his shoulder. He grunted an affirmative. "To keep from biting us?" Another tired grunt. He could feel his spine twisting and coiling at the nape of his neck.

Shaun snorted. "That doesn't make any of this okay! Just because he feels bad about it-"

"Desmond." The heavenly-scented meat-sack was moving closer. "If we can find you something else to… feed on, would that work? Keep you from attacking us?"

"Y-yeah. You'd have to hurry, though." He was trying to breathe calmly, trying to ignore the quiet grinding of his bones rearranging slowly and the pull of muscles and tendons shifting. If he survived this, he swore he'd never starve himself again.

He could hear Lucy holstering a weapon and heading for the stairs, but it wasn't until that wonderful scent faded that his body panicked.

_The food is gone! Find it! Find the food now or die! Get it get it get itgetitgetit-_

He clawed the air with one deformed arm and snarled. Rebecca held him back with an impressively strong grip around his chest, and he roared as he watched the food hesitate at the foot of the stairs.

_Right there, still enough time GETIGETITGETIT!_

"Go already!" Rebecca yelled as Shaun tackled him back to the floor just as she was slipping and pinned his arm down.

"I swear, Desmond, if you bite me I will stab you through the heart with a silver cross and drown you in holy water!"

Lucy only paused another instant before she bolted up the ramp and disappeared around the corner.

_Food is gone._

He felt so hungry.

_Food is gone and I'm going to die._

He gnashed his teeth and struggled, nearly throwing both of them off more than once, but they were tenacious and stuck like gum. He was growling and aching and whining and bucking and squirming but they wouldn't let go so he buried his nose against a warm neck and cried. He cried and he hurt and he got his arms free and grabbed hold of them both and wouldn't let them go.


	6. Chapter 6

By the time Lucy called them over her earpiece his body had seized up again so badly he couldn't release them even if he'd wanted to. Rebecca, being lither than Shaun, managed to slip from his grip without too much trouble. It didn't bother Desmond too much anymore; he'd stopped being able to feel himself a while ago. Shaun posited a theory about his brain becoming overwhelmed and shutting down all sensation to save itself, but the best Desmond could manage was a vaguely affirmative mumble.

He likes the way Shaun smells; like sweat and old books and plastic and dust. There's more to the scent of course, but right then it's hard to pull them apart and his head is kinda woozy and where did _leather-metal-plastic-comfort_ go? His hand feels empty hanging in the air without her anymore. He wants to ask _sweat-books-plastic-dust_, but all his concentration seems to be going toward blinking and he can't.

"Help me get him up; he's too heavy for me by myself."

"Is it safe for me to be near him?"

"He can't move enough to lower his arm; I think you're okay Lucy."

"Finally, Rebecca! I've been patiently waiting in the grip of a monster for how long while you two-"

"Shut up Shaun. Now is not the time. I left it upstairs, so we'll have to carry him."

"He's stiff as a board. We could just put him on the dolly and wheel him up."

There's something in the air. Something important, something he _needswantscraves_.

Slowly, so slowly, but he's getting closer. Dimness, then a pool of light that fades into dimness again until another pool of light appears. It repeats over and over. It's so fascinating; it feels like he's being hypnotized.

The smell is strong now, not just something that wafted along in the wake of a meat-sack but present just ahead and his tongue salivates and his teeth are trying to come out again and he almost thought he saw his fingertip twitch just a little and maybe there's still some life in him because something wet is being pressed against his mouth and it only takes a little effort and then oh-

_Oh_.

Yes.

_Food. Eat. __**Live**__._

When he was conscious enough of his surroundings to do so, Desmond realized that even when he's nearly naked and starving, he's still a meticulous eater. Nothing was wasted; no trace of the skin, no entrails leftover. The bones lay in a neat pile amidst the rubble, cracked for their marrow, and he was seriously contemplating gnawing those down to slivers and swallowing them as well.

He had never been so hungry in his life. Still, it was never good to look desperate.

They hadn't all stayed to watch, having apparently agreed that he wasn't about to run off into the night the second they turned their backs on him. Rebecca had to remain downstairs to monitor the electronics and make sure that this extended trip upstairs didn't bring any unwanted attention. Lucy might become his next course if she wasn't careful, which left Shaun to watch him devour what he assumed used to be a stray dog.

At least he hoped it was a stray. He hated eating someone's pet.

His secondary teeth retracted smoothly, and if it weren't for the persistent ache in his major joints he could almost fool himself into thinking he was fine. His tongue swept over his regular teeth making sure there were no lingering traces, and he rolled easily from his knees up to his feet.

Shaun was watching him, when he turned to look. For some reason he almost seemed bored. Desmond contemplated Shaun contemplating him for a moment. Then with a shrug he collected the little pile of bones and looked around. Against the wall where the codex had once rested there was a gap in the rubble; he tossed the remains of his meal in, then covered it with a mixture of sand and gravel. From a distance it didn't look like anything.

"You seem rather good at that."

Desmond shrugged. "Had some practice."

"At hiding bodies?" His tone was neutral and quiet. Desmond studied the little heap of dirt obscuring the remnants of what had once been a dog. The floodlights hummed and cast a jagged shadow of him across the floor.

Desmond turned his head slowly, holding Shaun's gaze as the rest of his body faced the glorified librarian. He stalked forward leisurely, watched Shaun's chin lift slightly and his nostrils flare. Desmond stopped in Shaun's personal space and let the silence stretch.

He leaned in. "It's easy once you know how." Desmond spoke slowly in his face, knowing his breath smelled like death.

Shaun didn't break eye contact.

Desmond smiled pleasantly and leaned back again. "It's a little cold. We should probably go back downstairs."

"Yes, the others will be waiting for an explanation." Shaun turned his back and walked away. It took Desmond a few deep breaths and a hard swallow before he could follow.


End file.
